


Elizabeth Schuyler

by Cant_We_Just_Dance



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Dreams, F/M, Look u guys, M/M, Mentions of Jerking It, Mutual Pining, Pining, Plot Twist, Sad Boners, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Whamilton - Freeform, just sad boners, or smut, that shoulda been the title, this isnt fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 04:48:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cant_We_Just_Dance/pseuds/Cant_We_Just_Dance
Summary: Nothing is easy as it should be.However, giving his coat to Alexander, freezing cold and shivering so hard he almost buzzed, was the easiest thing George had ever done.





	Elizabeth Schuyler

**Author's Note:**

> Only possible with the help of Beyonce's 'If I Were A Boy', and banana flavored Laffy Taffy.

George Washington had never had the best self-control. Not really. Sure, in public, and in the courtroom, he seemed to be a paragon of composure, with dark eyes and a foreboding silhouette. Being a lawyer tended to require such things.

Nights were his, though. Nights were when he could dream and imagine and lock his door like he was a nervous teenage boy, hoping that their parents wouldn’t be home until later. He would say the name that he never let slip out from his lips most days, no matter how desperately he wanted it to. Those dreams almost could have been nightmares.

Nightmares and dreams are only different because of the way you wake up. When one awakens from a dream, they are calm, or slightly confused, a thin film separating them from true reality. The end of a nightmare makes one sit up in bed, covered in a cold sweat and hoping beyond hope that their mind doesn’t do such a thing anytime soon.

Holding back those nightmares wasn’t easy.

Nothing is easy as it should be.

However, giving his coat to Alexander, freezing cold and shivering so hard he almost buzzed, was the easiest thing George had ever done. The thick fabric hung off his shoulders loosely, the size far larger than any Alexander had worn before. Unable to find the sleeves, he tucked the sides around himself, allowing his frame to be enveloped by the coat, faux fur tickling his chin ever so slightly.

“...Thank you, sir,” Alexander murmured, his gaze darting off in the opposite direction of the other man. His hair framed his face, hanging in the wind as a frozen, late-autumn breeze took hold of it. There was no ice coating the ground, and instead, the slightest bit of shine coated his eyes, not unlike in the way a petulant child holds back desperate tears. Holding back had never been one of Alexander’s talents, but nevertheless, he did so anyways.

“It was no problem, Hamilton,” George replied far less smoothly than he would have liked to have spoken. Instead, his voice had ridges and crevices, catching the snow that would fall later in the year, sparkling in the now-fading sunlight they stared at from their spot atop the roof of their office building. “You really shouldn’t be here, though. Tomorrow is an important day, and I’m sure that your… friends… would be less than pleased to learn you’re here, writing the night away. You should go home, warm up, wind down…. It’s not good for you to be out here with the weather as it is.”

“I prefer the cold…” Alexander whispered, eyes focused on the cement floor beneath his feet. His heart hung heavy in his chest, tugging down his lungs as it did so and constricting breaths that he wanted more than anything to feel deeply. “...It’s like that first night you brought me here. Do you remember that day?”

That day with its bright sunlight that shot through each window of the building, lighting up the colors on the carpeting, the pattern of which no one really liked. That day where traffic seemed to be the slightest bit quieter and car horns only honked in the distance. That day when George had handed Alexander his keycard, smiling as he welcomed the bright young lawyer into the law firm. Alexander’s eyes brighter than the sun as George gave him a tour through the building, taking longer than he really should have.

If Alexander had pointed such a thing out, George would have denied it and sped up the process. For the first time in his life, Alexander managed to stay quiet.

Introductions had not been easy, with one Thomas Jefferson having been particularly harsh to the younger man, but they eventually made it to Alexander’s new office. Washington would have apologized for it being so empty, only sporting a desk, a chair, and a filing cabinet, but Alexander was quick to thank him and set his things down, ready to get to work and prove himself.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to take a few minutes to get used to all of this, maybe check out the break room and meet your coworkers?’ Washington had prompted, trying to coax Alexander out of the focus he’d already built up. ‘All the necessary paperwork has already been done, but maybe you’d like some time before getting to work?’

‘I have so much work to do, sir,’ Alexander replied curtly, smirking as he stared down at the files spread across his desk, cases and notes and potential errors to be looked over. ‘I’m more than ready and willing to get it done. So much to do, so much to prove…’

Something between a defeated sigh and an amused chuckled had left Washington’s mouth, and he made sure to close the door on his way out. He’d really gotten himself into this, huh? Nevertheless, his amusement at Alexander’s completed files by the end of the day had him smiling. New ones were always fun before the world broke them.

“I could never forget that day, son, you know that,” Washington told him, the warm hold of nostalgia giving way to the freezing air that surrounded him in that very moment. He glanced over at Alexander’s face, smiling when he saw that the man was no longer quivering as violently as he had been earlier. “You’re certainly a… a character.”

“...My name is Alexander,” He whispered, biting his lower lip as he tucked the coat further around himself, shoulders hunched over in the cold that embraced him so fully, unlike the island of his childhood. One that George had learned not to comment on. Crystal waters turned bloody when sharpened, and Alexander as a child had very little to defend himself with. Now, he had his words, but even some days, they weren’t enough. George had defended him many a time, though almost exclusively whilst in private. Their friendship, if it could be called that, was enough for Hamilton, distant as it was. Too distant for George’s taste, but just enough for Alexander. How many times had he hoped Alexander’s wide spread arms would cause a hand to rest atop George’s own? How many times had he silently prayed that something improper would overtake them, and cause the whirlwind to pulse through Hamilton as well? 

“Hmm?” George hummed in question, having been too caught up in his own thought to have heard what the man had said to him. Such thoughts were best reserved for long nights with his empty house, where he locked his bedroom just in case. Where he could be alone with his desires, and keep his thoughts in order, only reaching deep into what he wanted when he had the time. Time to wish that it was Alexander’s hand wrapped around him instead of his own. He would already be moaning the younger man’s name, anyway. “What did you say, son?”

“I said, my name is Alexander,” He repeated, fiddling with the buttons of Washington’s coat that now seemed to be his own, for the time being. “...You can call me Alexander, sir.”

“...That would be improper,” Washington pointed out after a moment of tense silence. “If I were to call you by your given name then it would be… Outside of professionalism.” It would be even further away, linking the Alexander of late nights and Alexander of work days. His handshakes would only give Washington more ideas of what his grasp would feel like around him. Tentative, at first, but soon learning what Washington liked best, and then leaning down and using his mouth and looking up at him with those wide, brown eyes-

Alexander turned and looked up at him with those wide, brown eyes.

“Just once,” He whispered, in what could almost be thought of as a pleading tone, eyes still wet with unshed tears. “I just need to hear it once. Please… Then I’ll go home, and I’ll sleep the whole night, and I won’t come into work later tomorrow. I swear. Just… Call me Alexander. Call me Alexander and let me hear it…. Please…”

“I…” Washington stammered, taking a step backward from the man, only for Hamilton to take a step toward him. “Hamilton, you know that it wouldn’t be right, and that we should be getting back to work, and that you should be getting ready for-”

And then Alexander’s hands held George’s head in place, and Alexander pushed their lips together, kissing him in a fit of not-quite passion, something so distinctly… Something so distinctly-

“Alexander…” George breathed out in shock as the man pulled apart their kiss before George could have even reacted in the way he wanted to or the way that he knew he was meant to. 

“I know you don’t want me like this,” Alexander whispered, finally letting a tear fall down his cheek, leaving a trail on his face like half-melted ice. “I know that I should have ignored it, and that we can’t be together because you’d never feel the same way. I know that this is wrong, and what I am is wrong, and what I want is wrong… But I needed this. Just once. Just to… Just to pretend. Pretend that I’ll be here tomorrow, with you, instead of marrying Elizabeth Schuyler.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could've been called 'Sad Boners'.
> 
> Since I showed self-restraint, maybe you can comment?


End file.
